PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Black, crude

wretched, wretched thing

Your existence makes me shiver

I ran outside to scream

The clouds gathered but nothing fell

except this sloppy, pulsing thing

I left it in the grass, it has been eaten by now

But oh, this is what I live for-to flatline for days

This surely is what I live for-for you to squander my gaze

I swear I will never go near this again.